A Date With Death('s Master)
by I. H. Scribe
Summary: Death insists Dean go out on a date with his Master in return for his ring.
1. A Date With Death('s Master)

Fandoms: Supernatural, Harry Potter

Characters: Dean Winchester, Death, Harry Potter

Prompt: Death just wants to find the perfect person to make his Master happy.

Prompt Made By: Vixen Uchiha

Disclaimer: I don't own the following series(es) or any character(s) that follow, and unless _I. H. Scribe_ is listed after _Prompt Made By_ chances are I don't own the idea for this story either.

* * *

The scythe heated up and Dean dropped it. It reappeared on the table next to Death.

"Thanks for returning that to me, Dean," Death said. "Join me. The pizza's delicious. Go on, sit down. Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"I gotta say, I got mixed feelings about that. Is this the part where you kill me?"

"Don't be so egotistical. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well, think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. No, I have a different idea in mind. How do you feel about dating men?"

"Uh, I'm, uh, I'm flattered, but you're, uh, you're not my type," Dean said, with a weak laugh.

Death glared at him, "As if I'd lower myself to dating one such as you. I had someone else in mind. You want my ring don't you? One date, the ring is yours until Lucifer is gone. You want to keep it, I'm afraid you'll have to give him one in return. I believe the current human ritual is to do so while down on one knee."

"I haven't even agreed to date this guy," Dean said. "Don't you think it's a little soon to be talking marriage."

Death made a 'hmm'ing noise, and then gestured for Dean to follow him.

* * *

"Good afternoon Master," Death said. The boy – he couldn't possibly be older than seventeen or eighteen – doing the dishes jumped and whirled around.

"Oh, it's just you. Good afternoon, Mr. D. What can I do for you today?" he asked, turning off the water and drying his hands with a dishtowel.

"This is yours Master," Death said, handing over the scythe.

"Oh, uh, thanks? Who's your friend?"

"This is Dean Winchester. He requires my ring to seal Lucifer back in the pit." Death looked expectantly at him.

"Nice to meet you Dean. I'm Harry," the boy said. Then he turned to Death, "What's that got to do with me? It's your ring. You can do what you want with it."

"I've made a deal with him."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "What sort of deal?"

"I only wish for you to be happy, Master."

"Happy?"

"Wait, this is the guy you want me to take out on a date?" Dean asked.

"Whoa, wait, no, no, no, no," Harry said, waving his arms. "Look, I get that your just looking out for my happiness and everything, but I'm not gonna date a guy that's only doing this to get his hands on your ring. Especially not one who wears the same clothes as my godson."

"What's wrong, kid? Don't think you can handle all this?"

"Kid?" Harry said incredulously. "I'm older than you pretty-boy. And I can handle everything you've got, however _little_ there is." Here Harry made an exaggerated look at Dean's groin, making clear exactly what he thought was little. "I'm just not willing to date a man-child."

"No, you're just afraid you might like me."

"There's nothing you could _possibly_ do to make me like you."

"Wanna bet?"

"You're on!"

"Great. I'll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice, dear." With that, Dean Winchester strutted out of Harry's kitchen, leaving a gobsmacked Harry and a smiling Death behind.

Harry looked at Death and asked, "What just happened?"

"I believe you agreed to go out on a _date_, Master."

"Fu-"

* * *

"I can't believe I got conned into this," Harry muttered, peeking through the blinds as Dean honked the horn of the Impala again. Then he noticed Death was now in the seat next to Dean and Dean was getting pale. By the time Harry made it out to the car, Death was gone, but Dean was still pale.

"Do I even want to know what he said to you?" Harry asked.

"Typical overprotective father stuff. Hurt him, I hurt you. Things like that."

"Hurt me, pretty-boy, and _I_ hurt you. Mr. D can have what's left."

"Why do you call him Mr. D?"

"Kinda weird to call him Death in public. It became habit after a while. He doesn't seem to mind, even after I told him to tell me if he did."

"You can actually order him around?"

"Being the Master of Death has to come with some perks," Harry said. "Is this – no way! There is no way you managed to get reservations at this place!"

"Saved the owner and his family while they were vacationing in New Orleans. I've got a private table at every restaurant he owns."

* * *

"I have to say pretty-boy," Harry said, as Dean pulled into the driveway to drop him off at home, "that was decent for a date."

"Decent? Not awesome?"

"Not even close."

"Oh, come on. That has to at least be in your top five dates."

"Doesn't even make the top twenty."

"Seriously?"

"I guess you'll just have try harder next time."

"Same time, tomorrow?"

"I have meetings for the rest of the week. How about next Tuesday?"

"Barring the end of the world? Sure thing."

"See you next week, pretty-boy," Harry said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Death appeared next to him as soon as Harry was back in his house.

"Here's the ring."

"I, uh, kinda agreed to go on another date with him, but I'm not sure where I'll be then."

Death smiled, "I'll bring him to you."

* * *

"Are you happy, Master?" Death asked.

"I am. Doesn't mean I forgive you for tricking me into that date though."

Death smirked at him and disappeared.

* * *

As always, I am accepting prompts, however, I am not accepting prompts through reviews. If you wish to give me a prompt, please see the Accepting Prompts section of my profile for instructions. Thank you.

I. H. Scribe


	2. Unused Scenes

Unused Scenes

Or what will probably be in the sequel if I ever write one

* * *

"Ah, and you must be Crowley," Death said, "the demon that had my Scythe. I'm afraid you won't be getting it back. It's in the hands of its owner now."

"Of course," Crowley said, backing away and being sure to put Bobby's kitchen table and Sam between him and Death.

* * *

"You're angel-married to the Angel of Thursday?" Harry asked.

"Apparently," Dean said. "You don't seem to put out by that."

"Are you kidding? I love Thursday! I was born on a Thursday." Harry grabbed Castiel, and pulled him in for a hug. The look Castiel gave Dean made it clear he liked this about as much as Dean enjoyed being hugged by the cupid, and that he felt it was Dean's duty to help him out of it.

Dean only grinned at him and Harry.

* * *

Dean thought he heard Castiel mumble, "He has the grip of an octopus," before he left, but shook it off.

* * *

"You're wife and your girlfriend met and didn't try to kill each other _or_ you," Crowley said. "What the hell are you Winchesters made of?"

It was Death that replied, "Just because you weren't so lucky, doesn't mean that there aren't people that are."

"Wait, is that how you died?" Sam asked Crowley, before immediately turning to Death, "Is that how he died?"

Death smirked.

Crowley scowled.

* * *

July 31, 1980 did indeed take place on a Thursday. My Computer's calendar says so.


End file.
